Untitled

Unless you howl like Ginsberg,
Or maim yourself like Van Gogh,
Or choke on gas like Plath,
You'll go unnoticed evermore,
Your presence here on Earth, annulled.
Those precious, pearly moments
That blazed so brightly in the sun?
Mere dewdrops on an unkempt lawn
That dry to nothingness by noon.
And all the stelae you erected:
Worn to stumps before you're cold--
Lichen-crusted, indistinct,
The shards of anonymity.

Reviews

[John the Baptist]

If you live lives like those three unhappy people, perhaps anonymity isn't so bad in comparison.